The Empty Restaurant Syndrome by Reb MacRath
Here it is in all its horror:
Oh, the restaurant is lovely: superbly constructed and furnished. And the fair on the menu is top of the line. But the passers-by all look and see the same thing: a frighteningly empty place that no one wants to visit...because no one else dares to go inside first. The one or two four-star reviews on the windows do nothing to dispel our fears. Nor do the desperate expressions of the staff who are looking for something to do. Not even the celestial aromas wafting through the vents or the Grand Opening Prices.
We don't feel good about this. The place deserves a chance, we know. But we can't escape the feeling that the place is empty for a damned good reason. And so we shuffle down the street to stand in line at one of the happening places. Like this:
Now, then. We've started with something that most can relate to: the strong tendency to assume that a crowded restaurant is crowded for good reason. Have you ever seen a play in a nearly empty theater? If so, didn't the emptiness at least somewhat color your viewing? Or to play with this from another angle: Why do successful male seducers usually go hunting with 'wing men'? Why do beauties on the rebound often go out with just-friends? Or--hey, here's one for all of us--why do ebook writers hustle for reviews when they're launching their books? And why do they continue to hustle..and hustle...and hustle for more?
Now, I'm not sure that a hundred reviews will guarantee a book's success--even a very well done one. But I do know that readers will have a hard time taking a chance on a book that has none--or even one or two. With a dozen reviews--at least one or two from well-respected review sites--our chances improve dramatically. Even so, we're not going anywhere without the Secret Sauce:
Visitors or viewers need to tingle from the sense of an electric buzz. Whether five or fifty patrons sit inside that restaurant, we need to feel it's a happening place. No hangdog expressions, staff. We need purpose in your movements, pride and content in your eyes, confidence in every word. Not easy to do when you're just starting out. Certainly no easier than for a man who's lonely and down on his luck to come on like a star with the ladies or for a newbie ebook writer to stand out and make a name.
The good news is that there are ways. Elizabethan playwrights packed the theaters with paid 'clappers'. And not long ago, when sneak previews of films was more common, the seats were similarly filled with studio lackeys--who laughed and cheered too loudly for even the most dreadful films. They completed score cards--5 stars, all--and praised the films in the lobby. Bold restaurateurs who refuse to go under may pay their shills to pack the seats or hire flamingo (stet!) guitarists. And, of course, there's no end to the fun and games played out here in Ebooklandia to gain more reviews and boost sales.
My thinking has evolved. Each of us must set our own boundaries. But there's nothing inherently moral about spending 10 or 15 years learning one's craft, then watching the crowds stop at your window...then recoil from the stink of failure and the desperate look in your eyes.
The Empty Restaurant Syndrome sucks. And we all need to beat it to stay in the game.
Oh, the restaurant is lovely: superbly constructed and furnished. And the fair on the menu is top of the line. But the passers-by all look and see the same thing: a frighteningly empty place that no one wants to visit...because no one else dares to go inside first. The one or two four-star reviews on the windows do nothing to dispel our fears. Nor do the desperate expressions of the staff who are looking for something to do. Not even the celestial aromas wafting through the vents or the Grand Opening Prices.
We don't feel good about this. The place deserves a chance, we know. But we can't escape the feeling that the place is empty for a damned good reason. And so we shuffle down the street to stand in line at one of the happening places. Like this:
Now, then. We've started with something that most can relate to: the strong tendency to assume that a crowded restaurant is crowded for good reason. Have you ever seen a play in a nearly empty theater? If so, didn't the emptiness at least somewhat color your viewing? Or to play with this from another angle: Why do successful male seducers usually go hunting with 'wing men'? Why do beauties on the rebound often go out with just-friends? Or--hey, here's one for all of us--why do ebook writers hustle for reviews when they're launching their books? And why do they continue to hustle..and hustle...and hustle for more?
Now, I'm not sure that a hundred reviews will guarantee a book's success--even a very well done one. But I do know that readers will have a hard time taking a chance on a book that has none--or even one or two. With a dozen reviews--at least one or two from well-respected review sites--our chances improve dramatically. Even so, we're not going anywhere without the Secret Sauce:
Visitors or viewers need to tingle from the sense of an electric buzz. Whether five or fifty patrons sit inside that restaurant, we need to feel it's a happening place. No hangdog expressions, staff. We need purpose in your movements, pride and content in your eyes, confidence in every word. Not easy to do when you're just starting out. Certainly no easier than for a man who's lonely and down on his luck to come on like a star with the ladies or for a newbie ebook writer to stand out and make a name.
The good news is that there are ways. Elizabethan playwrights packed the theaters with paid 'clappers'. And not long ago, when sneak previews of films was more common, the seats were similarly filled with studio lackeys--who laughed and cheered too loudly for even the most dreadful films. They completed score cards--5 stars, all--and praised the films in the lobby. Bold restaurateurs who refuse to go under may pay their shills to pack the seats or hire flamingo (stet!) guitarists. And, of course, there's no end to the fun and games played out here in Ebooklandia to gain more reviews and boost sales.
My thinking has evolved. Each of us must set our own boundaries. But there's nothing inherently moral about spending 10 or 15 years learning one's craft, then watching the crowds stop at your window...then recoil from the stink of failure and the desperate look in your eyes.
The Empty Restaurant Syndrome sucks. And we all need to beat it to stay in the game.
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Comments
But the 'crowded/noise' thing is maybe why when looking for books I'm not bothered by reviews, I do my own searching and find for myself. Reviews from people I respect is one thing. Blanket reviews... not bothered. Just another opinion really unless it can be backed up with something more than noise. And it's probably why I don't 'sell' many books myself. For me social media offers the chance to give people informed choice opportunities and then let them choose rather than waving knickers in the air and making a fuss. For me crowded doesn't mean good any more than talked about means good. There's room in the world for all of us after all... and I liked your post. But I'm so glad I don't have to go to 'happening' places either in real or virtual life. Now I'm being asked to prove I'm not a robot. I wasn't last time I looked, but who knows...
But yes, most people are drawn to crowds, not deserted places. If you think about it, that's kind of obvious. If you're seen to be liked, then more people will want to get a piece of that.
Great post. Thanks.
Dennis, I actually respect the reviewer who hates my work if he reviews it thoughtfully. Sure, I may bristle at first - that stuff is bound to hurt - but in the end, it's a lot better than the bland cheers which mean nothing except that the reader is likely to be an idiot.
The question is, is it really possible to compare a physical space with a virtual one? Maybe to a certain extent, but I suspect that the dynamics differ in many essentials. Or do they? I'm far too ignorant to hazard a guess, but if nothing else, it seems a lot easier to fake reviews/stars etc. online.
Lee, good response. But I don't think it's too far-fetched to compare virtual and physical spaces. A niece who's working in a new chichi restaurant told me that the staff are offered bonuses for every friend or family member they can bring into the place. And, years ago, when I interviewed a well-known clothier in Toronto, I noticed something...strange about the people in the store: talking and laughing a little too loudly. When I asked him about this later, he laughed and admitted that they were his shills. I'm not sure if that restaurant has added more tables--I'll let you know when I find out later, on a return visit to the west coast.